What If The Most Special Girl
by restive nature
Summary: This story, is just an offshoot of what might have happened in my other story When It Changes.When the caption was added, the picture in the yearbook would read, To The Most Special Girl, Love, Your secret Admirer


Series Title: What If

Chapter Title: The Most Special Girl

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: G

Genre: Crossover

Type: Schmoopy

Pairing: None really.

Summary: When the caption was added, the picture in the yearbook would read, _To The Most Special Girl, Love, Your Secret Admirer_

Spoilers/ Timeline: This would take place around Chapters Twelve and Thirteen, specifically; it's a Valentine's Day piece.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

"So a fundraiser huh?" John grumbled as he refolded the sheet that Dean had handed to him. Sam had one as well. It had been decided this year that the 8th and 12th grade classes were going to be doing some extra fundraising, over and above what the school normally did, to procure extra money for their end of year graduation celebrations. Well, John had no problems with that. The note that the teachers had sent home had outlined the project and given tips for the kids to follow while selling door to door.

"What will you be doing to raise money?" he asked generally. Neither boy was looking too overly thrilled about the prospect. John was quite sure that in Dean's case, he'd rather be hustling for himself rather than the school.

"We're all going to be selling balloons and stuff for Valentine's Day," Sam replied.

"Don't you have to deliver the stuff too?" Max asked. Sam sighed and nodded. She turned to her father. "Courtney Kimble," she began, like many of her conversations lately, "told me that she always gets a balloon or candy hearts from everybody in the class."

"Probably 'cause she threatens them," Dean snorted. Max's eyes turned back to her meal and she shrugged.

John watched her for a moment, her silence uncharacteristic at this point. But knowing that there wasn't anything he could do to make her talk about it until she was ready, he turned to Dean. "And who are you selling these balloons and candy hearts and what-not to?"

"Everyone at school who wants 'em," Dean shrugged. He then leaned to one side and pulled a ream of papers from his back pocket. "Twelfth grade is also doin' a raffle. How many tickets you want?"

John grinned at Dean's lackadaisical selling technique. "How much are they?"

"Dollar each or six for five," Dean responded.

"And what's the grand prize?" John enquired.

Dean snorted. "It will be a basket filled with Valentine related, age appropriate, and gender specific goodies." From his tone, John could tell that he was mimicking someone, most likely his teacher.

He nodded. "All right, give me six." He reached for his wallet, nestled in his shirt pocket and pulled a five dollar bill out. He handed it to his son, who in turn, pulled six of the tickets from their stapled mooring. John picked them up and looked closely at them. There it was, just as Dean said, the grand prize would be chosen after the winner had been chosen so that the gift would be appropriate. The raffle ended the tenth of February so that there was time to create the basket and would be delivered on the fourteenth. There was room to put the buyer's name and room for the recipient it was to be delivered to. But also the words _Secret Admirer_. "What's this?" he asked, pointing it out to Dean.

Dean glanced at it and then shrugged. "You circle that if you want it to be a surprise."

"Okay," John agreed. He then divided the papers into three groups of two and passed them back to the children. "There, don't say I never did anything for you."

There was a chorus of amused thank-you's and the meal resumed. Afterwards, John chose Sam to help him with the dishes while Dean and Max went off to do homework and/ or watch television. John let things get settled before he quietly asked Sam, "so what's up with Max?"

The boy knew instantly what his father was referring to. After checking quickly that Max wasn't in earshot, the story poured out. "I guess Courtney has been spreading some nasty things about Max again," Sam confided. "The little brat really hates her."

"Huh," John sighed as he washed another plate. "She's just jealous."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "But she's trying to make Max's life miserable."

"Is she letting it get to her?" John wondered. Sam tilted his head back and forth as if weighing the idea.

"Not so much, I don't think," he finally decided. "But I heard that Courtney's convincing all the kids not to buy any treats for Max on Valentine's Day."

"That girl needs a sharp kick in the behind to smarten her up," John growled, his natural protectiveness over his family asserting itself. Sam was full of grins and agreement over that.

"I don't know about the rest of the kids, but Dean and I'll make sure she has something," Sam announced. "And I'm sure Justine will too. And one of the kids told me that the teachers make sure that everyone gets a little candy so that no one is left out."

"That's my boy," John smiled, giving his younger son a slightly soapy one-armed hug around the shoulders. "All right," he decided, "well I'll just keep my nose out of this then. Sounds like you kids got it handled." And that was the end of it.

Valentine's Day had come and John figured that it was a pretty good day. The weather was chilly; the wind had a bite to it. But most everybody was in a good mood. Kids had been in and out of the shop selling their raffle tickets every single day, though John himself had only bought one more. He'd made that one out to Mrs. Molly Gallagher and included a note thanking her for being such a good friend. He'd put all their names on that ticket, just so no one would get the wrong idea if it was the winner.

It was near quitting time though when Dave announced that he had one more customer just come in needing a tire repair. John, just finishing a coffee break went ahead and took it, recognizing Mrs. Armstrong, Dean's homeroom teacher the moment he saw her. He greeted her genially and asked about the tire.

"I noticed it was getting a little low yesterday," she smiled. "So I filled it up with air and now it's about flat again."

"Probably a rock break," John surmised as he began the process of removing the defective tire. The woman nodded and stood back to let him work. The patch on the hole took a little time, since he had to let the glue set before he could re-inflate it and return it to the car. Respectfully he offered her coffee and she gladly followed him back into the store to get some.

"So how's Dean doing in school?" he took the opportunity to ask. He hadn't made it to the second rounds of parent teacher interviews that took place at the start of the month. Not that he'd been required to. Those were reserved for the kids that were exhibiting problems in school. He had been glad that he hadn't been called in for any of his brood.

"His grades are up," Mrs. Armstrong reported warmly, holding the steaming Styrofoam cup between her hands to warm them. "They could be better I'm sure. Once he finds a topic he likes though for his essays, he's amazingly thorough and his arguments are well constructed."

"Good to know," John grinned. Yeah, Dean could argue. When he wanted to.

"You know," she smiled contemplatively. "You've raised yourself an exceptionally thoughtful young man."

"Oh?" John asked. "What did he do now?"

"Well I can't really say," she smirked. "But I'm quite sure once you get home, you'll figure it out."

John was puzzled, but the teacher refused to say more on the issue. Talk turned to the weather and cattle prices and finally John figured the patch was set. He mounted the tire again and Mrs. Armstrong paid her bill and was on her way. That was the last customer they had and Dave sent them on home. John was glad, since Dean had asked to borrow the car that evening. This way neither of them was rushed.

Smiling and feeling fairly relaxed, he arrived home and headed in, wondering if he should do a little something with Sam and Max, since Dean was going out for the evening. He was met by those very two at the door. Their exuberance made him smile. "What's goin' on?" he laughed, enjoying the sight of Max bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Oh, see what I got!" she exclaimed, tugging on his hand. "Look! Look!" Sam moved out of their way and now John could see the huge basked that sat on the living room sofa. His eyes widened at the bouquet of red and white helium filled Mylar balloons. As he approached, he could see a large white bear, holding a red satin heart between its paws. There was a smaller, identical version nestled between the legs.

"Oh my goodness," he exclaimed. "Where did this come from?"

"It's mine!" Max cried delightedly. "Someone won it and gave it to me!" He could hear the pleased triumph in that statement and John flashed back to the conversation he'd had with Sam. Well, this would have certainly set snotty little Courtney Kimble on her ear.

"And there're chocolates, a CD of love songs and look Dad!" Max continued to ramble. She plucked something out of the basket and held it up. "A book of Shakespeare's sonnets."

"Well now," John's voice was gruff. "Who's going all sweet on my little girl there?"

"I don't know," Max giggled.

"It was from a Secret Admirer Dad," Sam piped up. Max had detached the note and handed it to her father.

"And when they delivered it," she continued her excited babble, "they took my picture to put in the yearbook!"

"Well that is exciting," John murmured, though his attention was mostly caught by the writing on the slip of paper. "_To the most special girl in my life."_ He read the words. Not familiar, but there was something about the handwriting, he'd seen it before. He frowned and closed his eyes a moment, thinking back and then it flashed into his mind. He'd seen this before ages ago when… Dean! He'd been forging his father's handwriting for a note to his teacher. John had pointed out where the boy had gone wrong, since he didn't cross his T's so sharply, but Dean had just shrugged it off, both of them having a good laugh when the teacher had bought the story and resulting note that Dean had come up with. Now Mrs. Armstrong's words made sense.

But how many tickets must Dean have bought? The recent memory of the table covered with reams of raffle tickets and Dean hunched over them. He'd scurried to gather them up before John could see what he was doing. John had just thought that Dean didn't want his father teasing him about being sweet on a girl, but now he knew better. Pride filled him with a beautiful ache in the center of his chest.

"Where's Dean at?" he asked, his voice still gruff with emotion.

"He's upstairs," Sam informed him. "He's getting ready for his date with Tracey." John nodded and headed that way, Sam following after him. "You should have seen her face Dad," he confided to his father as they paused at the foot of the stairs. "We had to help her lug that basket home."

"I can just imagine," John smiled fondly. "Okay, go tell your sister we're going out for dinner tonight. And no chocolate until later, I don't want her spoiling her appetite."

"Okay Dad," Sam nodded and turned to go deliver the message. John turned to climb the stairs. He found Dean, just as Sam had mentioned, in their shared room, combing and styling his hair.

"Hey Dean-o," he greeted, leaning in the doorway.

"Hey Dad, you're home early," Dean returned enthusiastically.

"Yep," John nodded. "You about ready for tonight?"

"Yeah," Dean drawled distractedly, putting the last touch on his hair, getting it the way he liked it. Setting down the comb, he pulled at the cuffs if his sleeves and then turned to his father. "How do I look?"

"Real good," John confirmed. "So where are you going tonight?"

"Just dinner and a movie," Dean shrugged. "Tracey's got to be home by midnight."

"Okay," John nodded again. He reached to his pocket and extracted his wallet, pulling a couple twenties from it. He extended his hand to his son, who needless to say was puzzled.

"What's that for?" he asked suspiciously.

"I think you kids deserve to go somewhere nice, don't you?" John asked with a smirk. Dean grinned and snatched the money from his father, quickly adding it to his own meager stash.

"We were gonna go Dutch," Dean confided, "but this'll make a better impression, don't'cha think?"

"Sure will," John nodded. "And I know I don't need to remind you to treat her right."

"No Sir you don't," Dean nodded confidently. He picked up his jacket from the bed and pulled it on.

"Well, you guys have fun tonight," John instructed. "Call if there are any problems. The kids and I are going down to the bar for supper."

"All right," Dean nodded as he headed for the door. John stepped back to let him through. "You gonna wait up?"

"Nah," John shook his head. "I trust ya."

"Okay, see ya later."

John watched his son go clomping down the stairs, eager for his night out, thinking back to what Mrs. Armstrong had said. Whatever else Dean was, he was a child… a man to be proud of. One that John could hardly believe that he had had a part in raising. But he must have done something right somewhere along the line. He would keep Dean's little secret, even though he wanted to brag it all over town. No, he wanted to keep the pleasure he felt at the joy on Max's face in his heart. He wanted to keep the satisfaction of Sam that something wonderful had happened for his sister there too. And mostly he wanted Dean to keep on thinking that he had this little secret, one that would lift his boy's spirits in those darker moments of his life. He wanted all that and he was going to have it.


End file.
